


sweetheart you look a little tired

by drowsydaffodil



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Sugar Baby Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sugar Daddy AU, Sugar Daddy Miya Atsumu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 08:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30120300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowsydaffodil/pseuds/drowsydaffodil
Summary: “It says here that ya really like volleyball. And that ya even played for a bit, when ya were younger.”“Yes,” Kiyoomi said. “I’ve heard your name. Miya Atsumu. MSBY Black Jackal’s setter.”Miya nodded. He still wasn’t smiling, which was not what Kiyoomi would’ve expected from him after seeing how he behaved on the court and during his interviews. He came off as a man that took pretty much nothing besides volleyball seriously, a man that couldn’t bring himself to care about anything but his career.He looked very serious right now, though.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 55
Kudos: 272





	sweetheart you look a little tired

**Author's Note:**

> i have been wanting to write this for so long, and i finally did it. well, at least the prologue hehe (': hopefully the first chapter won't take as half as long as it took me to write this. prologue was a little bitch because omi wouldn't stop bratting and atsumu wouldn't stop talking and talking forever. 
> 
> anyway, i hope you like it! and sorry beforehand bc sometimes i forget how to english hehe
> 
> this is not edited or betaed or anything so proceed with caution

For the first time in three months since he’d started seeking an _arrangement_ , Kiyoomi froze right before the door of the private room where his date was waiting for him.

The hostess immediately seemed to sense something was wrong. Her hand stilled at the handle, and she gave Kiyoomi a hesitant glance over her shoulder. Concern was written all over her face, but it was easy to reassure her with a small nod. She nodded back, looking at least a little more at ease, and then she began sliding the door open.

Kiyoomi forced himself to take in a very deep breath. He set his shoulders back and carefully schooled his expression into a mask of cold indifference, pretending his heart wasn’t hammering in his chest.

He was well-aware that he was going against every single stranger danger rule to ever exist in the world. His parents would _murder_ him if they only knew he was meeting someone that didn’t have a picture in his profile, let alone a real name. He’d be grounded for a lifetime simply for simply downloading the app in the first place, actually.

But he didn’t have a choice.

The door made a small but ominous _click_ once it was put entirely out of the way, and the man sitting behind the only table in the room looked up from the papers in his hands and smiled warmly at the hostess. Then his gaze went past her, settling on Kiyoomi, and Kiyoomi’s breath hitched.

“Miya-san,” the hostess said, “your companion is here.”

For the first time in three months, Kiyoomi thought he could pass out when he met his prospective sugar daddy’s eyes.

He’d recognized him before, through the intricate pattern of the glass door. Kiyoomi would recognize him anywhere, after so many sleepless nights replaying match after match of the V-League in a poor attempt to find any kind of comfort in what he loved the most in the world after his family.

It was one thing to learn who was behind the door, though, and it was a completely different one to be standing right in front of that person.

Kiyoomi focused all of his attention on shrugging his coat off, thankful for every single second he was conceded to regain his wits. He handed it over to the hostess, and then he shoved away all the questions that were crowding in his mind. The last thing he wanted was for this man to think he was an insecure, anxious little thing.

“I will need to see your ID.” the woman said, and Kiyoomi complied. He didn’t get asked for it too often, but it made sense that the hostess of a restaurant as prestigious as _Hanagatami_ would worry about such a thing when she was about to leave him pretty much alone with a man that was at the very least ten years older than him.

“Very well. A waiter will be with you in no time. Please let me know about anything you might need.”

And then she left.

Kiyoomi inhaled deeply once more and slipped a finger under his mask’s ear loop. He removed it very slowly, aware that Miya’s gaze was still fixed on him. Once his face was finally uncovered, he braced himself.

And then he stepped into the room, sliding the door shut behind him.

Honey-brown eyes trailed lazily down his body as he walked to the table. Kiyoomi held his chin high, and his own gaze didn’t waver as he allowed Miya to take in his designer clothes. It wasn’t the first time one of Kiyoomi’s matches scanned him from head to toe, but it _was_ the first time that one of them didn’t do so looking hungry.

It was kind of unnerving, actually.

Most of Kiyoomi’s dates always looked ready to sink their teeth into him as soon as he was within arm’s reach, but Miya only looked curious. And not even curious in the _why is this pretty thing wearing something so expensive_ way, but in a way that Kiyoomi couldn’t quite decipher.

He didn’t like not being able to tell.

Miya’s eyes stopped at Kiyoomi’s Balenciaga’s, and then they began their way back up. Their eyes met once more right before Kiyoomi reached his own seat, and a small crinkle appeared in between Miya’s thick eyebrows. Kiyoomi had to suppress a small smirk.

Bingo.

So Miya wasn’t any different than all the other men Kiyoomi had dated. He was only harder to read.

Kiyoomi tried not to look too pleased with himself as he dragged his chair back, more than prepared for all the questions Miya was about to send his way. _How many previous arrangements have you had before? Are you still seeing someone? Why didn’t you mention this in your profile? Are you an experienced baby?_

It was always good that they asked themselves that question. That way, they could already imagine how high Kiyoomi’s standards were and how high maintenance he was, without him having to say a word to state it explicitly. It never failed.

He lowered himself gracefully into his seat, across from Miya, and—

“What happened to yer face, angel?”

—and almost choked on his own air. He coughed a little before recovering, and then he managed a small, “Excuse me?”

“Yer face, darlin’,” Miya repeated, and it wasn’t until then that Kiyoomi realized that the crease in his brow wasn’t due to irritation, but to _concern._ “It’s a bit red, and I don’t think yer blushin’, at least not yet.”

Well, if he hadn’t been blushing before, now he surely was. Kiyoomi drowned a small groan and looked down, only for half a second, before remembering that he couldn’t allow himself to act all bashful around a potential match. He took in a deep breath, chastising himself for not doing a better job concealing the flush on his nose and around his eyes with makeup, and looked back up.

It wasn’t like he could do anything about his slightly swollen eyes, anyway.

“It’s allergies,” Kiyoomi mumbled. “The dorms are too humid.”

There was no use in lying. He _had_ added paying rent for a new apartment in his list of conditions, after all.

Miya hummed.

“Shouldn’t ya have medicine for that?”

Kiyoomi froze, once more, and felt so stupid that it took all of him not to stand up in that moment and leave the room. He struggled to find his words as Miya gave another non-committal hum and fished a pen from his pocket to scribble something in one of the papers in front of him.

It was only then that Kiyoomi realized that what Miya had been reading were the documents he had requested from Kiyoomi when he had contacted him. His resume, his grades for the last two years, and a small description of himself and of what he liked and disliked. All of it with Kiyoomi’s personal information highlighted in black so it would be unreadable, including his last name, because he at the very least knew _that_ much about stranger danger.

Was this going to be a work interview?

“Can I offer you something to drink?”

Kiyoomi almost leaped into the air when he heard a third voice. Miya, the asshole, snorted. Kiyoomi turned to glare daggers at the waiter, his cheeks burning in outrage, and the poor man gave a small step back.

“I’ll let the boy decide,” Miya chuckled, and Kiyoomi seethed, biting the inside of his cheek to avoid saying anything he’d regret later. “We’ll have a bottle of whatever ya want, sweetheart.”

The waiter was already handing Kiyoomi the beverages menu, but Kiyoomi turned it down holding up a hand politely.

“Laurent-Perrier,” he said, “Rosé, please.”

The waiter nodded, still looking confused, and then he left. Kiyoomi looked back at Miya and swallowed a little growl when he saw that the man was smiling fondly at him.

This was the opposite of the reaction Kiyoomi had been hoping to obtain. Most of his dates usually got annoyed when he ordered something expensive in such a pretentious way. It made him look like a spoiled brat.

Which he was. It was good that they learned that from the beginning. So why wasn’t Miya irritated yet?

“Well, aren’t we _thirsty,_ Kiyoomi-kun.”

Kiyoomi could’ve sworn he stopped breathing for an entire minute. The waiter came back before he could muster up a reply, fortunately, and poured each of them a glass of champagne. Kiyoomi immediately took a sip of his, desperate to find anything to distract himself with, and almost choked on it when Miya chuckled again.

“Easy there, honey.”

Didn’t this man ever run out of _pet names_?

It wasn’t like any of Kiyoomi’s previous matches ever had. Sugar daddies and mommies, he had learned, were very fond of calling their potential sugar babies all kinds of nicknames, and Kiyoomi abhorred it. But he decided he abhorred it the most coming from _Miya Atsumu,_ from all people, given that this man in particular was at the very least twenty years younger than most of Kiyoomi’s previous dates, and that he was actually _attractive._

Attractive was probably an understatement. But Kiyoomi wasn’t about to go there, no.

“Your meal will be served in forty-five minutes, just like you requested, Miya-san. Please let me know if you need anything else in the meantime.”

Kiyoomi frowned.

Miya thanked the waiter, and it wasn’t until they were alone again that he addressed Kiyoomi.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you, Kiyoomi-kun,” Miya said. “But I’d rather discuss our potential arrangement before anything else. Just leave everything settled at once, without any distractions, so we can enjoy dinner calmly and get to know each other. If we don’t reach an agreement, or if we’re not compatible, then there would be no reason in getting to know each other better. I’m sure we’d both feel more comfortable if we ate in silence, in that case.”

Kiyoomi was pleasantly surprised to hear that. He perked up, his annoyance fading little by little.

He did like a man that didn’t beat around the bush.

“Forty-five minutes, that’s all I need,” said Miya, and Kiyoomi nodded. Miya smiled. “Perfect.”

Then the smile vanished.

“So, what exactly made ya think that it would be a good idea to talk to strangers on the internet and agree to _meet them_ , Kiyoomi-kun?”

Kiyoomi’s stomach sank to the floor.

He felt his lips part, only slightly, but he couldn’t move an inch. Not when Miya was fixing him under the sternest look Kiyoomi had been subjected to in the last eight months. Not when there was no trace of amusement in those brown eyes anymore.

There was only heavy, hard disappointment.

“I don’t even have a profile picture,” Miya said. “That’s very dangerous. Ya know that, don’tcha? I can tell yer a smart kid.”

Heat crept up Kiyoomi’s face.

“I only agreed because we would meet here, _in here_ , before it was dark. This restaurant is always full of people,” Kiyoomi growled. “And I’m not stupid, my cousin knows I’m here. I shared my live location with him, and he’s picking me up after we’re done here.”

That last part was a lie, but Miya didn’t need to know that.

“That only makes all of this a little less dangerous,” said Miya, but his eyes softened at least a little. “Yer really lucky that I’m not some creep. Do ya know who I am, Kiyoomi-kun?”

Kiyoomi avoided his gaze.

“It says here that ya really like volleyball. And that ya even played for a bit, when ya were younger.”

“Yes,” Kiyoomi said. “I’ve heard your name. Miya Atsumu. MSBY Black Jackal’s setter.”

Miya nodded. He still wasn’t smiling, which was not what Kiyoomi would’ve expected from him after seeing how he behaved on the court and during his interviews. He came off as a man that took pretty much nothing besides volleyball seriously, a man that couldn’t bring himself to care about anything but his career.

He looked very serious right now, though.

“I’m guessin’ ya haven’t had good luck with yer previous matches,” Miya said. “Or ya wouldn’t be here. At least that’s what I’d like to think.”

Kiyoomi tensed up. When he glanced at Miya, he was once again looking at the documents on the table, spreading them carefully.

“I’ll take yer silence as a yes,” Miya said. “Yer really pretty, though. So, I’m assuming ya have had many dates before. Ya just haven’t found anyone that fully adjusts to yer needs yet.”

He ran a finger down one of the papers as he read. Kiyoomi was dying to know which document it was, but he didn’t want to look like he was too interested, so he fixed his gaze on the wall behind Miya and didn’t say a word.

There was a small part of him that despised Miya for thinking he was so clever—for actually _being_ so clever—but there was also another one that was hoping Miya was liking what he was seeing, despite everything, and it made Kiyoomi want to despise himself as well.

“Yer grades were really good back when ya were in The University of Tokyo,” Miya praised, but his tone certainly didn’t sound pleased in the slightest. Kiyoomi knew why. “Excellent, actually. More than good enough for a full scholarship.”

Kiyoomi pressed his lips tightly together, digging his nails into the textured fabric of his trousers.

“But payin’ for yer tuition comes in yer list of conditions,” sighed Miya, “and I can’t say I’m surprised, after seein’ how badly yer grades dropped when ya transferred to Osaka University, Kiyoomi-kun.”

The room suddenly felt too hot. Kiyoomi wished he could tug at the collar of his turtleneck, but he didn’t feel like moving in the slightest.

“It’s been almost a year,” Miya said. “And yet they only keep going down. Is there anything ya have to say for yerself, sweetheart?”

 _Fuck you,_ Kiyoomi wanted to say. _That’s none of your business._

But, instead, he only remained quiet. Even when he felt Miya’s eyes settling back on him.

A few minutes passed by. Kiyoomi desperately wanted to take another sip of his champagne and glare at Miya like he always did when any of the adults he went out with inconvenienced him in the slightest, but he _couldn’t._ He simply couldn’t, and he couldn’t understand why, and it was starting to drive him crazy.

But he wouldn’t survive staying like this for too long, either, so he bit the inside of his cheek again and forced himself to finally look at Miya again. He flinched when their eyes met, but he still held his gaze while sitting with his back straight and didn’t say a word.

That seemed to be enough for Miya.

“Those will have to go up,” Miya said, softly, looking down again. “Or there will be consequences, okay?”

A small shiver ran down Kiyoomi’s back.

“Ya will get all the help ya need, though, so don’t worry too much. Books, a new laptop, private tutorin’, online tutorin’, anything. I’m sure movin’ out of the dorms will help ya a lot too, right? All ya have to do is ask, darlin’. I’m only tryin’ to help here.”

Kiyoomi was already nodding before he could hold himself back. Then, finally, _finally,_ a small smile made its way back to Miya’s lips, and Kiyoomi could breathe again.

“Good boy.”

Kiyoomi drained a little more than half his glass in one go. He regretted it immediately after when everything started feeling even hotter, but at least it gave him an excuse for the fierce blush that had spread across his cheeks.

“That’s pretty much all from my side, to be honest,” Miya said. “Besides of what we had already discussed previously, of course. Meetin’ at least four times a week, keepin’ contact every day and eventually spendin’ Sundays together when ya feel comfortable enough. I’d love to have ya come to some of my matches, too, if things work out. I also want ya to move out of that dorm as soon as possible. Next week, if ya manage to find a place by then. Oh,” his smile widened, “ya already found one, haven’t ya? I can see it in yer pretty eyes. Text me the information, then.”

Miya seemed to remember something right then. He tapped the table, his eyebrows furrowing only slightly.

“Oh, and no talkin’ to strangers in the internet. Ya can talk to and hang out with whoever ya want, but yer safety is not under discussion. Ya can have as much fun as ya want as long as ya keep me updated and don’t lie to me.”

It wasn’t like Kiyoomi liked other people enough to be around them too much, anyway, but he still nodded.

“I trust ya to know all ya need to know when it comes to safe sex,” said Miya. “But, in case ya decide ya want to have fun with more people, ya will be gettin’ regular check-ups. To make sure everything is in order. Okay?”

Kiyoomi bit his lower lip and nodded again. Miya apparently found that endearing. He cooed, and Kiyoomi had to talk himself out of baring his teeth at him.

“Is there anything _ya_ would like to add, Kiyoomi-kun?”

“Not much besides what we had already discussed,” Kiyoomi said. “As long as you meet my requirements, everything is okay for me.”

“I’m sure a few more things will come up as we get to know each other,” Miya said. “But I already think this could work very nicely. I just want to check one more thing.”

He pushed his chair back, slowly pulling away from the table, keeping his eyes fixed on Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi eyed him warily, following his movements carefully, and his breath caught in his throat when Miya held a hand out.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

Kiyoomi could’ve said no. He could’ve simply told Miya that he was okay where he was, and he was sure that Miya wouldn’t have insisted.

And yet he pushed his own chair back, got to his feet, and made his way to the other side of the table without a single protest. Holding Miya’s gaze, the entire time, not blinking once. Not hesitating for a second, not even when his heart was thumping so hard in his chest that he could hardly breathe.

He placed his hand in Miya’s as soon as he was standing at his side. He shuddered when their skins brushed, but Miya didn’t seem to notice. He only looked intently into Kiyoomi’s eyes for a few seconds more, as though giving Kiyoomi time to decide whether he really wanted to do this or not, before finally closing his hand over his.

He pulled Kiyoomi closer to him, gently, with all the calm in the world. His broad hand came to rest on the small of Kiyoomi’s back. Kiyoomi tensed at first, but then Miya started drawing small circles with his thumb over the thin cashmere of his sweater, and Kiyoomi _melted_ under his touch.

He had to bite back an undignified squeak when Miya’s other hand grabbed him by the hip. He still hadn’t managed to catch his breath when he was pulled down gently but _firmly,_ not given an option to resist.

Kiyoomi was not by any means easy to lift, but Miya still managed to maneuver him to his liking until he was sitting comfortably.

In Miya’s lap.

Kiyoomi was now perched on Miya Atsumu’s lap.

“Good,” Miya huffed, his warm breath brushing against Kiyoomi’s ear and making every single tiny hair on Kiyoomi’s arms and the back of his neck stand up in terror—it _had to be terror._ Miya rested the hand that wasn’t patting Kiyoomi’s hip on Kiyoomi’s thigh, and Kiyoomi…

Kiyoomi whined.

“No, no need for that,” Miya chuckled, and Kiyoomi wished he could die on the spot. “This will take no time, sweetheart.”

Kiyoomi managed to let out a little growl, this time, as he regathered his wits for the second time that day. He squirmed in his place a bit and added that to his long list of regrets for the night when all that earned him was to learn that Miya’s thighs felt under him just like they looked.

Thick and hard.

“Now, Kiyoomi-kun…” Miya interrupted himself with a hum.

He started stroking Kiyoomi’s thigh. Kiyoomi’s blood was already burning under his skin, but Miya’s touch only made it all much worse. He turned his head away in a poor attempt to save some of his dignity, hoping that not looking at Miya would make the situation more bearable, but his efforts were quickly frustrated when Miya’s hand found its way to his face.

It caressed his cheek sweetly before taking him by the chin.

And Kiyoomi was too busy losing his mind over the contrast of Miya’s calloused skin and the gentleness of his touch to offer any kind of resistance when Miya nudged him to face him again.

“Is this okay for ya, Kiyoomi-kun?” Miya whispered.

It was his tone what made Kiyoomi snap out of his small trance. Serious, genuine, _concerned._

Miya was still assessing him.

So Kiyoomi looked straight into his eyes, mustering as much calm as he could, and nodded.

“Do ya like me, Kiyoomi-kun?” Miya asked, this time tilting his head so he could brush his lips on Kiyoomi’s cheek. “Do ya find me attractive?”

Kiyoomi nodded again, sharply, confidently.

He shuddered when Miya pressed a small kiss under his jaw, where he was the most sensitive, but he still kept his back straight.

And then Miya pulled away slightly, only enough so he could look at Kiyoomi’s entire face rather than only his eyes.

“Are ya a virgin, Kiyoomi-kun?”

Kiyoomi hesitated for a second. Not because he considered lying, not for a second, but because he feared he would be disgusted by the reason behind that question.

“No.”

“Good,” Miya said. “That fulfills the last of my conditions.”

Kiyoomi couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that left his lips. _Not a creep after virgins,_ then.

Miya had the nerve to kiss the tip of his nose after that.

“Everything is okay from my side. Do we have an agreement, then, Kiyoomi-kun?”

Kiyoomi nodded with a small grunt. Miya smiled the biggest smile he’d smiled in all night and helped Kiyoomi up, giving his thigh a small squeeze.

“I guess I can start callin’ ya baby then, _baby._ ”

_Baby._

It hit Kiyoomi all of sudden, as Miya started rambling about dinner and about what he’d like to do for their first dates. He had an agreement. After months of looking without any success, either because his matches couldn’t stand him or because he couldn’t stand them, he _had an agreement._ He would move from his filthy dorm, he would have money for his allergy medicines again, he would have money to buy himself new clothes, he would have money to eat _healthy_ again.

He was so lost in his relief that he didn’t realize his lips had curved into a small smile until Miya just stopped talking to stare at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Kiyoomi scowled at him.

“The first thing I want to get done is to have ya get a full check-up,” Miya announced, pulling out his phone from his pocket. “Mainly because I need to get ya tested for STDs, but it never hurts to make sure everything else is order too. I’ll make ya an appointment with my doctor. Is tomorrow mornin’ fine for ya?”

Kiyoomi sulked, but he nodded. Miya seemed to notice something was wrong, because he squeezed his thigh again—what was his hand still doing there?

“Don’t worry, baby. He’s the best of the best,” Miya said. “And I’ll show ya my results as well. I had it done before agreein’ to meet ya.”

“I understand,” Kiyoomi grumbled, irritated. He was _hungry._ Now that everything was settled, all he wanted was to eat.

“Very well, uh—” Miya frowned at his phone. “I’ll need yer full name for yer appointment.”

Kiyoomi tensed.

He knew it was coming but knowing it didn’t make it any easier. Never.

He took a deep breath.

“Ikehara Kiyoomi.”

**Author's Note:**

> i've never had a beta but if anyone by any chance would like to beta this pls do tell me (':
> 
> [@drowsydaf](https://twitter.com/drowsydaf) — twitter


End file.
